"No!" the woman exclaimed, leaping to reach the globe
that was falling towards the placid surface of a pool… or was
it a mirror? Reflections of everything around it flashed in the
silvery surface, and it rippled, looking more like liquid glass,
or like mercury. Tendrils snaked out, grasping the sphere from where
it had stopped, inches above the surface.

"What have you done?!" the woman turned to face the person
who'd thrown the sphere.

"Why, do I detect a hint of reproach?" The man was tall
and gaunt, with black hair that reached his shoulders and a goatee.
He walked as if he were floating, with an easy and casual grace
that would seem beyond him if one were to judge by looks alone.

"Stuff it, Dante!" the woman shouted. "You know
damn well you're not supposed to interfere with these things once
they've started."

"You wound me, Jibril." He mock-bowed to her, stepping
closer still to the pond. "But what you had intended… It
seemed so… mundane. Besides, this timeline's been done a million
ways from Saturday and there's hardly anything you could do to the
poor S.O.B. to make it interesting if you worked with half-heartedness."

"I was trying to help this version out a little, actually,"
the woman admitted, shaking her head sadly. Lustrous blond hair
waved behind her like a cloak.

"And how would that have turned out? Hmm… I see, no curse
of… You removed the curse of interesting times?! Oh man,
that's a good one." The man laughed. It was a short, barking
sound actually, not unlike the crack of an ancient pistol.

"Why?" she asked.

"Jibril, you're an angel, but you have too much to learn of
curses." Dante shook his head with a wry grin. "The curse
of interesting times can't be removed. It's self-renewing,
and laid by beings far beyond our little flickers of power, or that
which we call 'divine'. You simply had it altered to someone else
for a year."

They looked to the pond.

"OH!" Dante clutched his stomach. "That's NEW! Ryouga
becoming an interdimensionally renowned 'demon of rage'? Seen things
like it, but not quite with the same amount of 'panache'."

"Damn." Jibril shook her head. It appeared as if her
alteration did little to help, save getting Ryouga out of Ranma's
life and bound to a magic sword as the demonic entity empowering
it. Ranma went on with his life without having met Ryouga —
or any other Hibiki for that matter — and since the fights
with the bandanna-wearing boy had kept Ranma's edge sharp, he wasn't
quite good enough to handle some of the things coming at him. His
life ended at Kuno's hand, which wielded a demon-empowered blade…
Guess which.

"Can't have that, now can we?" the man asked with a disturbing
grin, as he shoved a gloved hand into the pond, causing a massive
ripple in the continuum.

"What did you…? That looks like the mainline," she
noted. This line would have gone on with Ranma becoming disowned
after the failed wedding had been declared his fault — since
it was all his 'friends'' doing — and committing seppuku. Jibril's
alterations had jostled it around enough, but it looked like the
timeline was heading that way again. But Dante had to have changed
someth—

She watched as Ryouga met an old man who, for saving him from some
bandits, granted the boy a scroll. She watched as the ship that
was bringing the party back to Japan, after the ordeal at Jusendo,
got caught in a brief but fierce storm. She watched Ryouga standing
behind a brooding Ranma, and reading from the scroll. She watched
as…

"Why?" she asked him after a moment's contemplation.

"It gets boring down there after a while." The man shrugged.

Berlin
23.09.2004
2 A.M.

The loud roar of a powerful engine tore through the otherwise relatively
quiet night, rousing many people from their dreams. It was a tortured
sound, like a scream of rage throwing a challenge to the world,
and utterly confident in its ability to win.

The car in question was sleek and black, with red highlights around
and from the air inlets in its hood and behind its doors. A Ford
Mustang '67 Fastback, some identified it… Those who could catch
a glimpse of the speeding machine, as it was going well in excess
of a hundred and fifty miles per hour. It screeched past intersections,
rounded corners with frightening grace, and kept up its pace as
best it could. Frankly, it was a good thing that there were so few
people out that night. Berlin normally tended to be a busy place
even after midnight.

The black and red blur shot around another corner, coming into
a double-lane road split with a two-meter-wide strip of grass and
the occasional tree in the middle. Of the two lanes that served
the traffic going in its direction, one was full of parked cars,
making that particular road effectively only one lane wide. The
Mustang's driver could have cared less, but not by much. His eyes
were partly on the road, and partly on the dark shape that was about
five hundred meters in front, and forty meters above his current
position.

The man grinned ferally as he managed to line up with his quarry,
and leaned partly out the car's window. The rushing wind struck
him in the face, and the car's sudden shift in aerodynamic properties
made him fumble with the wheel for a moment. He brought it back
under control after a second of deft and minute movements with his
right hand. His left hand was currently outstretched in the direction
of the shadow, holding a black handgun. There was little hesitation,
save as the man thanked whatever spirit had blessed him with superior
hand-eye coordination, and soon three loud reports could be heard,
if barely, over the roar of the engine. The shadow twitched, and
suddenly tumbled downwards as the man quickly settled back into
the car, handgun landing on the passenger seat as he slammed the
brakes down and swerved.

"Damn roadwork," he muttered, working the throttle and
brakes until the car yielded its submission and screamed straight
in-between the two rows of markers that lined the section of the
road still available for use. A light nudge to the left, a harder
one to the right, and the vehicle went into a controlled skid that
brought it through the rest of the tight curve, and onto a normal
roadway again, without much loss of speed.

He gunned the throttle, letting the car surge forward and reveling
in the feeling of being pressed against the seat by the Blessed
Lady, Acceleration, for a moment, until he hit the brakes again,
slamming the wheel to the side and nearly getting tossed from his
seat as centrifugal forces played havoc with his body.

It rose slowly, gingerly fingering the broken surface of one leathery
wing. Its skin was black, the eyes burning embers of red that bored
right through the dark of night. Standing at nearly eight feet in
height, and with long spindly limbs that ended in three-clawed fingers
each, it was a grotesque sight to behold. The dog-like head spun
as the roar of its pursuer reached its ears.

The mortal carriage slid to a halt with a wail that was nearly
equal to that of lost souls being flayed in hell. Its door opened
and closed with a dull sounding thud, and the creature could
see its occupant exit and turn to stare through the darkness, straight
at it.

It blurred with speed that couldn't be natural, moving as swiftly
as thought. Its claws flexed as it leapt, angling towards the mortal
who had dared to injure it. Only said mortal wasn't there, and the
creature's feet found only the slick surface of the carriage's roof.

"Scratching the paintjob's a no-no, ugly," a cold voice
came from behind it, and before it could react a noise akin to a
very large explosion shook the area. The dark being felt its back
aflame, hundreds of sources of pain flaring in it. It hurled its
bulk forward, rolling on the ground, leaving a bit of skin and black
ichor on the surface of the road. Its wings had been shredded beyond
all recognition by the blast.

But that was impossible! No mortal weapon could wound it so severely…
unless it wasn't a mortal weapon, not in the usual sense.
The wounds failed to regenerate, so the answer was obvious.

"Spellslugs," the thing snarled. "Where did a puny
one such as you get spellslugs?!"

"Made 'em myself."

His quarry was before him, and the demon attacked again. And the
man again dodged, moving faster than humans had any right to, even
ones with the sort of training he'd received.

There is a moment in the life of every being when time slows to
a crawl and the senses can and do pick up everything they can. Usually
it's the moment right before death, when the being's essence doesn't
want to give up its existence and thinks that by taking in as much
of the world as it can, that existence would be lengthened. The
dark creature experienced such a moment.

It saw, for the first time clearly, its quarry and nemesis. It
was a young man, though of what exact age was exceedingly hard to
tell. His features were Asian, and quite sharp. His hair was a shock
of wild black strands intertwined with scarlet ones, falling around
his face in a manner that suggested they had once been longer, but
that the owner had cut them hastily. The man's eyes burned with
the intensity of flame, and were the color of freshly drawn vein
blood, a rich and thick crimson that glimmered in the faint light.
He wore white. A white dress shirt, a pair of loose white pants,
a white leather coat. The only accents of color were the two red
Gregorian crosses on the coat's shoulders, one inverted, one not,
and the pair of heavy black boots he wore.

In his hand rested a weapon of steel and metal alloy… a weapon
the flash of which lit the night for a brief moment, enough to spit
out its metallic doom. The creature could feel spellweaves around
the projectiles, could feel them tearing at its aura and penetrating
it…

The man shouldered his CAWS shotgun, spent shell casings lying
at his feet, smoke still floating from the muzzle. The demon corpse
was rapidly shriveling away to nothing, its head and chest a mass
of bleeding black flesh, still aflame due to the more mundane effects
of the ammo used. "Willy-Petes and spellweaves do mix,"
he smirked faintly, the light from the fading phosphorous charges
lighting his face with an eerie glow.

This one hadn't been at all hard. He shook his head. He'd taken
worse ones, much worse. His side and back could tell a tale, the
way they were marked with white streaks. They would fade away in
a year or so, but for now they were reminders.

The man known to most his contacts only as Uriel turned around
with a casual grace that spoke of incredible skill and confidence.
The weapon in his hands was thrown inside the trunk of the Mustang,
and he slung the trench coat over the headrest of the passenger
seat. He wouldn't be going out again for a while, at least. Settling
into the driver's seat of the car was a comfortable feeling, giving
him some control over his life again. It had been six years, six
years since that day he had been betrayed and left for dead. For
him it had been over twenty, but then again, time flowed differently
when you didn't know what to watch for. Tonight another demon had
been sent back to Hell, and he could feel that it had been the last
active one in the area.

His fingers felt the keys in the ignition, twisted them, and brought
the beast to life. A moment later they were roaring into the night
along the highway. And then they were gone, as if never having been
there.

If one were to overlook the twin trails of fire that marked the
car's passage… and cut off abruptly after about a hundred meters
or so.

Demonbane Ltd. presents a short work of fanfiction that
could not have been written were it not for information supplied
by the good people on the 'Couch'.

Road to Hell: No Need for Heaven

A Ranma ½ fan fiction story
by Griever

Disclaimer: Ranma 1/2 characters property of Rumiko Takahashi,
Shogakukan, Kitty, and Viz Video. Jibril was swiped from Angel Sanctuary.
Inspiration came from reading various altaverses based on Ranma
½.

The characters who are my creations are: Dante, Silver, Tanaka,
Sakuya, Sato, and Neko (though he's not mentioned by name in this
chapter). And yes, the first section is a blatant rip-off from 'The
Bet'. Sorry, Gregg; couldn't help it.

WARNING: Well, if you want to read it, go ahead. I ain't stopping
you. Just don't come running to me with any psychological scarring
afterwards. It was meant to be this… odd.

"There's a saying: the road to hell is paved with
good intentions. Pray you never find out what the road to
heaven is like. You wouldn't like it one bit."
-Uriel, NYC, 13.09.2000.

LONDON
23.09.2004
3 A.M.

The car slowed to a crawl and turned into the driveway of a condo.
It wasn't a large condo, only three stories high, but the spot it
was in was adequately secluded for the purposes its owner used it
for. The low growl of the high-powered engine was easily muffled
by the trees and shrubbery surrounding the lot that the building
stood in.

Uriel expertly guided the metal beast into the garage, stopping
it inside the large chamber and triggering the mechanism that operated
the garage doors. He stepped out of the vehicle, sighing as he did
so. A faint shifting in the air was the only sign that could be
seen of a glamour being used, and the man's dark, red streaked hair
was suddenly a plain brown, his eyes a watery blueish green, and
his features had turned Caucasian.

"I still don't know why you insist on taking that face
up in here," came a voice from the doorway that led from the
garage into the condo's living area. "It's not like anyone
who actually comes in here doesn't know what you really look like,
Ji."

"Call it a force of habit, fleabag," Jigokudou replied
calmly. The owner of the voice came forward from the shadowy doorway
and into the garage. Light fell and illuminated a woman in her early
thirties, with a thin, sharp face that in some circles could be
considered beautiful. She had amber eyes that shone in the faint
lighting, and a wild shock of hazel hair. The slight smirk playing
on her lips wasn't unusual by any stretch. Standing at six feet
even, with a slim but powerful figure, she was an inch taller than
the man, and looked a fair bit older than him though her clothing
would have suggested otherwise. Tight shorts hugged her shapely
hips, and a tank top over which a loose, unbuttoned denim shirt
was draped did little to hide her… assets… from the world. Frankly,
she didn't really care.

"He coming in?" the woman asked him, pointing to the
car as she did so. He popped the trunk and hoisted the spent clip
from the CAWS as well as the weapon itself out. Then he closed it
again, and shrugged.

"Don't think so. We took a bit of a trip down. Needed to feed
him." He patted the metallic blue hood of the Mustang as he
passed it. The paintjob was a magnificent midnight blue mixed with
azure highlights. "Think he'll just take a nap now."

"Okay." The woman nodded and fell into step beside the
man as he headed out of the garage and towards the door she'd entered
through. "Yer in early today, by the way. Everything work out?"

"Yeah," Jigokudou nodded his now brown haired head, shrugging
out of his trench coat and tossing it onto the steel-framed coat
rack that stood by the door. The ground floor of the condo was spacious,
with a large main room that held a number of couches ranging from
leather-padded to just plain old normal ones, a few chairs standing
here and there, a coffee table and a large widescreen TV that took
up a fair bit of space. "Just what the sources said, yer basic
flying fiend type, though it had a bit of spunk, ya know?"

They passed through the main room and climbed the stairs onto the
first floor, where Jigokudou dumped the CAWS and clip onto a workbench.
Most of this floor was used as either storage or workshop space.
Both continued on, climbing another flight of stairs and coming
to the second floor. This was slightly different from the others,
being one single room with the occasional support beam. The furnishing
was a bit like the main room on the first floor, as ragtag and mismatched
as it got, but oddly comfortable. One of the walls was neatly riddled
with floor-to-ceiling arched windows that looked towards the city
center.

"So what's up with the face?" the woman asked him. "Not
like ya to be this gloomy, unless…"

"Yeah." He nodded in agreement.

"How long did you stay down there?"

"An hour."

"An hour?!" she shouted, then calmed down. "No
wonder you're down like that."

"Can't pick another place for the office to be," the
man said glumly.

"Just don't move there all of a sudden," she snarled
at him.

"Why? Worried about me, Silver?" He smirked at her, looking
a bit more chipper.

"Ya betcher ass I'm worried about ya, stupid!" Silver
pointed a slim finger at him. "If you ever move down there
to stay, mark my words, I am gonna come down there myself and pound
ya into a bloody pulp!"

"Fat chance," he snorted in amusement, plopping down
onto a couch, with Silver coming down on the one opposite him and
sprawling out on it. "'Preciate the gesture, though."

"You'd better," she growled. "Feelin' alright now?"

The man mused for a moment, then shrugged. "More or less,
yeah. Thanks."

"Don't mention it." She nodded with a grin.

Then his face turned hard as flint.

"I have to do it again today. The enchantment's waning. I
don't want the motherfucker to sleep soundly again… ever."

Silver nodded. Jigokudou had been like that ever since she'd met
him three years ago. "Driven" was one way to describe
him. There was a lot of bitterness there, and a lot of anguish that
was hidden from sight. He could still laugh, he could still be happy.
She was glad for the little miracles. But the shadow was constantly
present, though weaker now.

She would have dealt with it in a different manner. It would be
so easy to just go there and kill the object of Ji's hatred… but
she knew that however much spite her friend held for that man, he
wouldn't simply kill him. He would do much, much worse. And
then some. Even for someone used to dealing with the downright revolting
side of the supernatural, Silver had felt queasy that one time when
he had let her see his darkest desires with the mirror of souls.

She had sworn off meat for a month afterwards.

'Death.'

'You will die.'

'Slowly.'

'I'm coming for you, asshole.'

'And when I get you, you'll see the infernal depths of the abyss
and learn the true meaning of pain.'

Eyes snapped open in the darkened room, sweat beading the man's
face. His face was taut with stress, and there were bags underneath
his eyes from lack of sleep. That dream had come again.

It had been three years since the first time, and it had come irregularly,
but it was still in the shadows, waiting for him to let his guard
down. Dreamcatchers dulled it, and pills would help him sometimes,
but there was always an occasion when it would get to him.

He raised his muscular frame off the bedroll, arms shaking as he
recalled the horrors that came with the words of his spectral stalker.
Nearly tripping over the heavy pack and umbrella he kept at the
side of the roll just in case he needed to set off somewhere on
a moment's notice, he shuffled towards the kitchen.

*thud* *thunk* *thud* *roll* *thud*

After swearing up a storm, he climbed the basement stairs and set
off towards the kitchen again.

"Oh? Good, good." The chairman nodded. "Who would
you recommend for this?"

"One of the usual contract teams… though it may be wise
to bring in outside assistance, sir. No telling what they've done
to security," was the reply. "Also, there's been… rumors
about them having some… unconventional help."

"And how would you propose we deal with that?"

"A contact of mine has suggested a likely candidate. He has
worked for us on occasion, though never on the island. He isn't
gaijin, though he's settled abroad. Very efficient, though quite
flashy too."

"Oh?"

"He calls himself Uriel."

LONDON
23.09.2004
6 P.M.

After much grumbling and a fair bit of swearing, the man going
by "Uriel" when dealing with things he classified as business
finally managed to extricate himself from the warm and cozy confines
of his bed. It was a big one, soft, covered in fine silk and with
a genuine feather mattress. He'd had to endure hardships in his
life before, but he didn't see the point anymore. It had something
to do with seeing and surviving some of the worst that both life
and death had to offer. Like someone he'd once called a friend claimed,
he had seen hell.

Still Uriel, or Jigokudou, as that was the one and the only name
he gave other than his work-alias, tended to love sleeping in after
a good night's work. Besides, he led a rather nocturnal way of life.

Pulling on a loose pair of jeans and an oversized blood-red t-shirt,
he trudged down from his floor and into the common area of the condo.
There he noticed Silver giving the TV her more-or-less undivided
attention, clad in an oversized t-shirt and blue panties. Years
ago, he'd have begun apologizing. A bit later he'd have ogled. Now
he simply shrugged at the sight, figuring that since a minimum of
modesty had been preserved, he had no reason to do anything else.
Besides, he'd seen Silver in much more revealing situations before,
as she had him, so modesty wasn't something they cared about very
much when in each other's company.

"Morning," he said, passing behind her and brushing a
hand against her shoulder.

"More like evening, Ji," she snorted without looking
at him. The man continued on until he reached the corner of the
room that served as a kitchen, whereupon he proceeded to raid the
fridge.

"Same difference," he shrugged through a bite of submarine
sandwich. "Anything happen while I was visiting Morpheus?"

"Job offer came in." The woman tilted her head and turned
it to look at him, amber eyes glinting in the faint light of the
setting sun.

"Hmm? What kind?" Jigokudou asked as he collapsed on
a worn old recliner he favored.

"Extraction for a zaibatsu. Some sort of prototype was stolen
from the research labs of Hikari, Inc." Silver informed him,
taking a lotus position on the couch, with her elbows propped on
her knees and her chin cradled in the palms of her hands. "They
want Uriel to get it back for them."

"Feh," he snorted. "Don't they know I don't work
on the Island?"

"Ji," Silver's voice was soft. "They're gonna be
paying us four mil in USD. I told them you'd at least consider it,
and we're not the only ones they decided to call in. I've heard
Tacchi Tanaka's going back to Tokyo for this, as well as that…
How did you call her …? 'Kunoichi bitch', Sayuka."

Jigokudou blinked and whistled, sandwich temporarily forgotten.

"What is this 'we' thing you speak of?" he asked a moment
later, bemusedly.

"What, ya think I'd let ya take this one alone? Fat chance!
We split fifty-fifty on it, and you get me to watch yer back."
The woman smirked.

'And watch that you don't lose it' wasn't added, but then again,
there was no need to state the obvious.

The man sighed, looking thoughtful. If he accepted this, it meant
a lot of fund influx. There were a lot of things that would make
life easier you could buy with a few million dollars, but with saying
yes to it he would also be taking a risk. He was there, and
Jigokudou didn't trust himself to leave this lie. He would have
to act. It filled him with both dread and inexplicable elation.
He had control. He could do this.

And maybe, just maybe, Tokyo wouldn't be left a burning husk afterwards.

Maybe.

As he raised his head and looked at the sunset through the narrow
windows of the room Silver could see his red eyes glinting and burning
with an eerie inner light.

"We'll do it," was the last thing said.

TOKYO
NERIMA DISTRICT
24.09.2004
6 A.M.

It started innocently enough. He'd just gotten out of bed when
he noticed there was something wrong. For one thing, he could feel
an odd shifting about him. The ki senses he'd honed through many
years of rigorous training were ringing like bells on a church tower
after mass.

The sudden disappearance of that sensation caused him to stagger.
It was as if whatever it had been that had caused it had faded from
the face of the Earth. Still…

He dressed and left the room, one hand on the wall as if for support.
His eyes scanned the familiar corridors of his home, as if expecting
the Devil himself to pop out of the woodwork.

"Show yourself!" he demanded, and was met with no answer
whatsoever. "I know you're there! Show yourself, coward!"

The force of the blow that impacted on his back was enough to send
him into and through a wall, kicking up clouds of dust. He growled
as he rose from the debris, turning and lashing out at the slight
ki concentration he felt nearby. The man felt his punch — one
that could shatter rock and dent tempered steel with ease —
deflected without much trouble, and before he could do much more
he was hoisted up and into the air by a powerful hand around his
neck. The hold tightened as the attacker squeezed. He struck out
again, kicks and punches flying at the assailant… but he hit nothing.

Once more he was thrown — no, more like tossed casually —
into the air, only to come down heavily moments afterwards. There.
He felt the ki, however faint, and acted without hesitation.

"SHI-SHI-HOKODAN!" The Roaring Lion Bullet lit the partly-destroyed
room with a deep green glow, and flew true, straight at the man
silhouetted against the swirling dust… Who simply shifted minutely,
somehow allowing the attack to go by him and destroy another wall.

"No inventiveness, no style, and certainly not even a little
unpredictability. Haven't changed much, have you, Ryouga?"
the attacker said, and Ryouga managed to stand up again, from where
the backlash of the ki projectile's launch had pushed him down.
"Still hiding behind honor, I see."

"Who are you?!" Ryouga glared defiantly into the gloom
of his debris-strewn home. The lack of lighting and the grayness
from the oncoming dawn were only serving to worsen conditions. Still…
He hurt, too. The walls weren't the problem. The punch had been
strong enough to break three of his ribs, as far as he could tell.

"Don't recognize me? No wonder. Slow-witted moron." The
stranger laughed. "You know, I think I should be mad at you!"

Ryouga froze. That voice! It couldn't be! He was…

"Ryouga Hibiki! Because of you, I have seen HELL!"
the man's shape blurred, and suddenly he was in Ryouga's face, eyes
like embers burning into his soul. And then he did something that
had the Lost Boy whimpering. He grinned, like only a person intent
on inflicting an utmost degree of pain on their victim could. Said
person was now holding Ryouga by the throat again. "Yes, because
of you I've been to Hell. You claim to have visited at one
time. Tell me, do you want to be reacquainted with it?"

The fanged martial artist punched again, throwing all his force
into the blow. The fist, glowing brightly with his ki, impacted
on his opponent's face with a wet smack. There was a cracking noise
as his hand erupted with pain on the moment of impact, and he screamed
as it was burned… and then charred…

"AAAAaaaaa!" he yelled incoherently as he retracted
the hand… or rather, the charred, blistered stump that had once
been a hand.

"Heh, I wasn't going to give you a choice anyway, balls-for-brains."

The neighborhood was shaken out of its early morning stupor as
the Hibiki family home erupted in a brilliant column of blood-red
fire, reaching upwards into the skies. It raged there for a second,
the images of faces flitting briefly along its sides, and a wail
like that of a damned soul could be heard.

And then there was nothing, save for a charred crater where the
house had once been.

TOKYO
26.09.2004
11 P.M.

Were anyone there to watch it, they would have seen something that
was definitely not commonplace. After all, a car that drives out
from under an overpass where there had been no cars a moment ago,
and moving in complete silence at that, was fairly high up on the
weirdness scale.

As it was, the one person who was there to see it was a young man
coming back from a drinking binge with his friends. His eyesight
was sharp enough, even after having ingested quite a bit of alcohol,
not to miss the shape of a 1967 Ford Mustang sliding past him like
a ghost. That is, were it not for the fact that his eyes seemed
to slip past the car, never truly acknowledging it to be there.
That the car's paint job was constantly changing and adapting to
the background could have been a factor in this.

In any case, none consciously noted the car's pulling off the road
and into a dark alley, navigating it for a while before stopping.

Doors opened, and driver and passenger stepped out.

"This will be interesting, if nothing else." Jigokudou
seemed to have a load off his chest. Silver knew why. The release
of several years of pent up frustration, anger and the like, could
be either crippling or liberating. In his case, it seemed to be
the latter.

"At least you didn't slag the district," she said in
a dry tone. "Just the house."

"Your point being?" the man asked, retrieving some of
his gear from the car's trunk.

"Your aim's getting better." Silver grinned darkly.

"Oh, har. You slip up once, and they never let you
forget it," he said in a hurt voice.

"Your last so called 'slip up' was documented as the 'Great
Fire of San Francisco, 2002', as far as I know," the woman
stated, pulling out her own gear and strapping it on.

"Night of self pity." She shrugged. It was about how
they'd come to work in a partnership. He'd stumbled upon her on
an outing in London a few years ago, and they'd helped each other
out. At least that had been what it looked like to her, before she
found out more about just what he could do. It wasn't the best of
times for either of them, and for some reason she'd managed to convince
him to join her for a few drinks. How she did that would remain
a mystery for them indefinitely, since he rarely if ever drank at
all.

In any case, after severe doses of alcohol — and they could
handle their liquor exceptionally well; their respective constitutions
a few notches above what was generally considered humanly possible
— brooding had started. That in turn changed into trading of
old stories, and somehow, a couple of bottles later, they were both
bawling their eyes out about one thing or another that had gone
bad in their respective lives. When they woke up next morning, naked
in Silver's apartment, in a tangle of limbs that left little of
last night's happenings to the imagination, there had been a bit
of an awkward moment. It would have turned even more awkward if
they didn't remember most of what had transpired last night. A lot
of things had been said, and quite a number of things done. The
recollection of some of the latter still made Silver a little tingly,
and Ji a little flushed. It was a haphazard start of something that
had turned from reluctant company to full-blown partnership, though
they hadn't had all that many reruns of that night's events. It
was more a question of needing someone they could trust than simple
physical release.

If anything else — apart from a lot of embarrassment,
that is — had come from that night, it was the fact that Jigokudou
had found out he was immune to the common hangover, not that he
ever drank enough that he'd have actually gotten one after that
one slip.

"Well there was that nest of ghouls there, you know."
He shrugged, then seemed to zone out for a moment "Hmm. Oh,
this is good. Your information was accurate."

"Which part of it?" she inquired.

"Yuki," the man simply said.

"So she really is that Nabiki girl you've mentioned?"
Silver frowned. The information had been costly, but it paid to
know your friends as much as it paid to know your enemies. "Any
trouble with the fact?"

"Nope. She's good, but it's been years, and I'm not exactly
what or who I used to be anyway."

"I wish I could have your confidence," the woman sighed.

"Hope for the best, and prep for the worst," the man
answered without as much as a hint of a grin, but there was a smug
note there that the his companion thought she felt.

"Better make sure she knows we're coming, then," Silver
stated. Ji just nodded, and turned to the car.

Nabiki Tendou looked up, taking in the sight of the towering building
on the opposite side of the street. It was a massive structure of
steel and glass, reaching for the skies at sixty stories in height,
not counting the penthouse that was the CEO's occasional residence.

Zatoshi Incorporated was a well known player in the corporate field,
handling jobs ranging from producing merchandise in the form of
microprocessors and computer systems to accepting weapons contracts
from the JSDF and various of the world's militaries. They also didn't
shun any means of raising their position further, and the trail
Nabiki had traced indicated that it was one of the higher echelon
board members who had hired the team for the Hikari raid. The prototype,
whatever the item that had been stolen was, was probably somewhere
in there, most likely in one of the labs Zatoshi had in their headquarters
building.

This was what they would have to enter, if she was right; and with
her sources she was rarely off the mark by too much.

She more felt than heard the vibrating sound of a high-power engine
drawing closer, then stopping and being turned off. Two doors slammed
in the darkness beyond, somewhere within the shadows of the alleys.

The others weren't as casual about it as she was; then again, they
didn't quite have her talents. Guns were ready to be drawn on a
moment's notice, as were blades of various designs. A tall gaijin
woman stepped from the shadows, dressed in loose-fitting jeans and
a BDU jacket that didn't do much to hide the fact that she was packing
some serious heat.

"Yuki, I presume?" she asked in accented but plausible
Japanese, directing the question at Nabiki.

"And you would be Silver, then?" the girl replied with
a question of her own. "And your partner is…"

The sudden shriek from the shadows signaled a black-clad female
form falling gracelessly onto her rear as a man in a white trench
coat, a cowl over his head and the coat's high collar obscuring
his face — in a way Nabiki noted couldn't be quite natural
— stepped out behind her. The only thing visible was a pair
of eyes, both of them a solid blood-red.

"Been a while, angel." The kunoichi stood up, regarding
the man before her impassively.

"Too short a while," the man said dryly as he stepped
past her, turning to look at the skyscraper. Neither he nor she
made a move to hide their animosity for each other, which wasn't
really that surprising, Nabiki reasoned. It fit in well with the
profiles, even if Uriel's was little more than speculation. Still,
the woman he had come with was a well-documented operative, and
Nabiki could tell that she was as good as her evaluation claimed
she was, if not better.

"People," Nabiki said, raising her voice a little. The
other few operatives were still tense, but handling it well, even
if Sakuya looked as if she was considering putting a dagger through
Uriel's back. "Do I need to remind you what we're supposed
to do here?"

"And camera… is looped. Go!" Tanaka was a man in his
early thirties, and about as nondescript as was possible for someone
of Asian descent, which was pretty darn anonymous-looking. Currently
he was running interference with the various detection devices in
the complex, lounging in a padded recliner that sat in a minivan
filled to the brink with electronics. They moved as a well disciplined
troop would… mostly.

Clearing the way for four teams wasn't an easy task, even if one
required only that an elevator be halted on the top floor so that
they could use the shaft. It was persuading the internal diagnostic
systems that everything was all right that was the hard part.

At least he was in little risk of getting his ass blown away if
something went wrong. It was one of the benefits of his specialization.

"I thought security was supposed to be heavy," Silver
muttered as she took a peek through a slightly ajar door. The corridor
beyond was clear, with no guards at least. Cameras and motion sensors
were another thing entirely, but that was why they had Tanaka, and
she'd worked with him before enough times to know he could do his
job darned well.

Nabiki eyed her speculatively. She could feel there was something
'off' there, but couldn't put a finger on it. She was reasonably
certain that it wasn't a glamour, since she'd checked beforehand.
Her partner, however… that was a different story altogether.

She could see layer upon layer of glamour spells, more complex
than anything she'd seen anyone do. The darkness of his hood wasn't
natural either, and the coat was imbued with faint traces of Shadow
and Death magic, and more than a few stray flickers of fire.

Only because she was so close and knew where to look did she know
this. Were he to walk past her on the street she would most likely
fail to recognize him.

And there was something else. She had lived alongside martial artist
of various schools all her youth, and knew what to look for to be
able to judge someone's fighting skills. This man seemed to rather
float than walk, his motions effortless. Frankly, for a first impression,
he was definitely someone to keep an eye on.

But just why did he seem so damn familiar?

Silver stiffened a moment later than Uriel did as they entered
yet another floor. She was apt enough at reading his almost nonexistent
body language that they seemed to communicate almost without words.
If something was bad enough to cause this sort of reaction in a
man who'd faced down a full-blooded demon in the very depths of
Hell itself, well, it was bad.

They were split up into four four-man teams, herself having gone
with her partner, the woman that called herself Yuki — though
Silver had made the connection who this was immediately — and
a hired gun by the name of Sato.

"Hoboy," Uriel said after a second of silence. "Damn,
this isn't going to be that easy."

"What is it?" she asked cautiously, her hand already
wielding her sidearm, eyes scanning the corridor before them.

"I… I think I feel it," Yuki said, eyes wide. "By
the kami, what is that?"

Any answer would have been lost as the ceiling caved in, and suddenly
erupted in a flurry of concrete and steel. They threw themselves
on the ground, arms curling around their heads protectively, as
rubble crashed around them.

The dome buckled and failed suddenly, as a clawed hand smashed
into it, tearing it effortlessly. A shape loomed from the dust cloud
that had been brought up by the rubble, and Silver barely moved
out of the way, pulling Yuki and Sato with her, and out of the way
of the…

"Oh shit! A demon!" she exclaimed, wide-eyed.

"Not bad for a mortal," the being stated with a bemused
chuckle, its voice grating as if it was coming from a piece of defective
machinery. "Not good enough, though!"

She saw Yuki's hands fly forward, and a wall of compressed air
slammed into the demon, managing to back it up a step. Sato shook
off his daze and propped himself up on his elbows, rifle in hand.
A staccato of gunfire erupted and bullets hit home.

Since they weren't enchanted, they failed to do much, if any, harm.
Still, they had bought them a little time. Silver reacted on instinct
more than anything else. Her gun was out of the question, with it
being somewhere under the rubble probably, and she wasn't about
to leave her back open anyway. So she charged.

Nabiki stifled a fearful gasp. She'd dealt with lesser demons and
imps, even a few more earthly supernatural phenomena, but she had
always known what she would face beforehand. True, she was a powerful
esper, but this seemed a little beyond her. She was well aware of
the fact as she sent a force wall towards the demon, intent on holding
it for at least a moment to give her time to gather her concentration.
The hail of bullets that Sato sent moments after managed to make
the thing a little more distracted, even if the normal lead failed
to injure it. Sato's left hand left the gun to delve into his hip
pouch, searching for a more appropriate load. Even silver bullets,
Nabiki knew, wouldn't do lasting harm here. Spellslugs were too
expensive to waste like this, and only they would be good for putting
a demon down.

So she stared as Silver rose to her feet and charged at the dusky-skinned
monstrosity that was nearly four times her size and mass.

"What the hell are you doing?!" she wanted to
shout… but instead stared some more.

Silver's body seemed to shift subtly at first, and suddenly grew…
She burst from her clothes, fur sprouting from her skin, claws appearing
on her hands and feet, face replaced by a canine muzzle. The demon
jerked back as the silver-furred werewolf attacked, lines of black
blood appearing from where the were's claws had struck it.

Nabiki felt the power gathered in her cupped hands, and knew it
was still too little. Her frown deepened as did her concentration,
and the air around her glittered slightly with condensation.

The demon slammed its massive fist into Silver's midriff, the hellspawn's
strength lifting the silver-furred mercenary off the ground and
slamming her body into the wall. A web of fractures appeared along
it, as momentum finally decided it wouldn't carry her to the other
side, and let her slide down in a boneless heap.

"Dammit, a little more!" Nabiki hissed. Her prayers were
heard as Sato finally managed to find the clip, slam it home, and
fire. Silver bullets tore into demon flesh, causing small fountains
of blood to erupt from it, pushing it back… before a bolt of black
energy slammed into Sato, picking him up and depositing him on the
other end of the corridor as little more than a charred skeleton
holding a molten slab of metal.

Power tore itself from her grasp, as she was barely able to direct
it. A ball of swirling blue flew from her cupped hands, flew true,
and impacted on the demon… a faint sheen of frost was the first
sign, followed by the expression of frank disbelief on the formerly
snarling face of the creature. Its skin paled and air started turning
to fog around it, then to fine crystals of ice. Nabiki managed to
stay on her feet, a smirk on her face, though her footing was unsure,
to say the least.

"Damn, that hurt!" the voice was distorted, but still
recognizable as Silver's. The wolfen form rose from the ground,
bones snapping into place with a sickening series of sounds.

Her words were stopped cold as another demon fell from the hole
in the ceiling — this one badly banged up — and onto its
back in a manner that looked vary painful. There was a gaping hole
in its abdomen. It growled, ignoring them and sending a wave of
crackling blackness upwards. The white-wearing form of Uriel appeared,
leaping for the demon, skirting along the edge of the energy wave.
His white trench coat was open, the hood down and the cloth that
had been around his lower face now around his neck. Reddish-black
hair fell to his shoulders, and eyes like glowing embers were fixed
on the demon.

The thing's chest caved in as he impacted, legs bending. A clawed
hand reached for him, and was blown away by a spread of spellslugs
from the shotgun in his hands. A moment later the demon's head was
turned to a bloody pulp in the same manner.

"That makes it three," the man said as he popped the
clip and replaced it. The casual manner in which he did this didn't
escape Nabiki, nor did the fact that his clothes were as impeccable
as they had been at the beginning of the engagement. There was something
about his manner… "How many did you get?"

Silver's gaze skipped past Nabiki, and the brown-haired girl was
cast a short glance that said, 'oh, ye of little faith'.

"Damn showoff. You'll never change, Ji," Silver said
dryly.

"Well, you'd certainly better not; not now anyway,"
the man chuckled as he kicked what was left of the demon's head.
"Not that I'd mind an eyeful."

"Pervert," the werewolf snorted.

"Your point being?" The man quirked an eyebrow.

"What… how…?" Nabiki was gaping.

"He does this sort of thing for kicks on his days off,"
Silver said; and Uriel groaned.

"Uriel here," the man retrieved a comm unit from his
pocket. "Heavy opposition on fortieth. Sato's down, but our
side's been covered."

"We may be in trouble," Silver remarked, looking towards
the end of the corridor. Five people stood there, their skin unnaturally
pale, each one holding a weapon of some sort in their hands… Weapons
that gave off a powerful aura, at that.

The fact that the fivesome each had fangs and glittering yellow
eyes wasn't unnoticed either.

And then there wasn't time to think anymore. Instinctive reactions
were the only thing keeping Nabiki alive as she ducked to the side,
bringing what little reserves she had up into a small shield that
barely deflected an enchanted blade. Her other hand curled around
the handle of her sidearm, and she brought it to bear, emptying
the clip into the vamp's face and chest. While the bullets weren't
silver, these weren't demons either, and regenerating bullet wounds
was said to hurt.

Silver roared over the din, her left arm hanging limply, a short
sword piercing it. A slash cost the vamp that had done it its head.
The werewolf's instincts saved her hide as she moved, the blade
that had been meant for her neck coming down on her shoulder. The
sensation of burning was a shock, and she ripped herself free after
a moment, the wound on her shoulder smoking from where the enchanted
blade had caught her.

She lunged forward, powerful jaws closing around the vamp's head,
crushing it as if it were an overripe melon.

She dug the claws of her still working hand into his chest, heaving
the husk over her head with little problem, and hurled him at the
one Nabiki had delayed. The sound of flesh hitting flesh and bones
breaking could be heard.

They turned to see Uriel standing in the midst of a pool of crimson,
limbs and random body parts strewn about randomly, two heads pinned
to the wall with blades driven through their mouths.

"What? Is there something on my face?" he asked, noting
their stares.

"Nothing." Nabiki felt her throat going dry. No answer
from any of their groups, and Tanaka wasn't responding either. If
it was a simple hardware failure… but like they would be that
lucky. Ever since the demons had tried to take them down, they'd
been attacked by steadily more disturbing odds. All the while she
watched her companions…

Silver seemed to react normally enough; at least Nabiki thought
that it was normal for the werewolf. Her wounds had healed somewhat
and her left arm was again usable, but her agitation had remained.
Still, she held fast to her partner's side.

And he was the enigma here. He hadn't even been scratched; at least
he didn't look in the least wounded since the fighting had begun,
and the ease with which he took down anything that came against
him… Either simply ripping it apart with his hands and feet in
a display of casual power she hadn't seen since her sophomore year
in high school, or dispatching them with that monster of a shotgun
he carried. She could feel the enchanted slugs in that thing from
five meters away, so there was a fair guess about their power.

And there was something that kept nagging her about his face…
something long forgotten.

"I'm going to the top," Uriel said, still keeping that
creepy calm of his.

"What?! Why?!" his partner asked before Nabiki could.

"Tell me, Miss Special Assistant to the CEO, what was it exactly
that went missing?" the man asked, and Nabiki wasn't even startled
by his knowledge.

"I don't know. It was in the special projects department.
Something in genetics, though. It was in a cylinder about a meter
in height and a meter in diameter," she admitted.

"Now tell me, what could open a Class Five summoning circle?
Nothing less would have been able to support the transit of the
demons," the white coated man said. Their expressions were
enough of an answer. "The sacrifice of someone of divine blood."

"No…" Nabiki's eyes went wide.

"Heavenspawn, Plane-touched; what you will. How did you get
your hands on it, I wonder?" He shrugged. "No matter.
The circle is still there, and is still calling them in. Somebody
should stop it before a Greater can come in through—"

"Fools!" The exclamation came from behind them, and they
whirred, weapons at ready, to face an elderly man in a neat suit.
"There's nothing you can do about this! You have not the power
to seal a circle such as that. It was constructed by seven of the
most powerful mages in this city, and none of you has the potential
to even attempt the proper ceremony."

The man wavered, and faded away.

"Hologram," the werewolf snarled.

"But he's right; we have nothing of that—" Nabiki
began, but found Silver's hand on her shoulder. She stopped, again
surprised. "No way!" She eyed Uriel in shock.

"Yes 'way'. He's the one that sealed that Class Seven outbreak
in Lichtenstein last year."

The words were a bit too much. A Class Seven could support a member
of the Lesser Nobility among the demons. To have the power to seal
that…

"What are you?" she asked the man in a hushed
tone.

"Pray you never find out." Silver's voice came to her
from the side, quiet yet assertive.

She could never let go of a challenge, though…

"Remind me," Silver growled as she slashed at the demonspawn
before her, rending its head separate from its shoulders. "Why
did I convince you to take this job?"

"Money," Uriel said, unloading a spread of enchanted
slugs into the mass teeming on the stairway below them. The projectiles
tore through demon flesh and armor with an ease that spoke volumes
of their quality, and, to Nabiki's eyes, of the price they had to
have been bought at. And the man never seemed to run out.

Her own brief volleys of cryokinetic power pushed back the enemy
for a few moments, but did nowhere near the damage; and the werewolf
was dealing out damage at a frightening rate to any that came close
enough.

"Ah," the silver-haired lycanthrope nodded as she slashed
another demonspawn into bloody pieces. "Please, don't
let me do it again."

"Noted." The man's tone was casual, as if he were discussing
the weather with someone and not attempting to breach a demon-infested
skyscraper's upper level. Nabiki had to remind herself that it was
probably the safest place to be in the entire building — close
to him, that is. If you were on the right side of that shotgun of
his.

Silver eyed the Nabiki girl, or rather young woman, cautiously.
She'd been discreet about it — and she could be fairly discreet
— but she was uneasy about her. If what Ji had told her was
accurate, and there was no reason why it shouldn't be, then this
could only lead to more trouble.

She snorted, as if they weren't in enough of a bind already. Good
luck the girl knew how to fight at least, and fight she did. But
if she was as sharp as she looked to be, and as Ji claimed she was,
then this could turn out to be ugly…

Or rather, it had the potential to. You never knew with Ji.

The explosion caused most of the windows on that and the three
adjutant floors to say bye-bye. It was followed by the loud and
rough coughing sound of multiple high-caliber slugs being fired
in close succession. The leathery-winged, smoking corpse of a yellow-skinned
demon was blown into the room through its heavy wooden doors, sending
splinters flying everywhere and coming to lie on top of a crushed
table, seeping with blood, its flesh flayed and charred in some
places, and huge chunks of meat torn from its sides.

"Sixtieth floor, women's undergarments, executive offices,
amateur summoners and company," Uriel's voice stated in a bored
tone as the man emerged from the cloud of black smoke, CAWS propped
against one shoulder. His clothes were still an immaculate white.

A hastily erected cryokinetic shield barely deflected a firebolt
spell that would have hit him dead on, as Nabiki and Silver stumbled
into the room.

"What the hell were you trying to do?!" the esper shouted
at him.

"Draw their fire," was the dry response. "Unlike
you, I can take something like that."

The steel plating that covered one of the room's walls was a good
hint where they should try to get to. It was, upon closer inspection,
heavily warded with glyphs and spells from various schools of magic,
from runic to Taoist.

"Heavy," Silver said, a claw tracing the runes. She knew
some of them, but not well enough to breach the protective barrier.
"Can you breach this, Ji?"

The man nodded.

Passing them both he put his right hand against the rune covered
metal, and frowned.

"What is it?" the werewolf asked, noticing the expression
on his face.

"This is good work, serious stuff. He was telling the
truth; seven really experienced warders put this up here. It's more
tangled than the mess that I used to call my life once." He
peered at the wall intently, and grinned.

"Got it?" Nabiki asked, ready to release another blast
just in case.

"Heh. You know what? This is probably the best thing I've
seen since two years ago in Egypt, and it took me a good hour to
unravel it without any side effects," Uriel said. He didn't
need to turn to know that Nabiki's expression had turned anxious.
"But we have no hour, do we? Therefore…"

His hand glowed faintly, first with the flickers of ki, and then
with a faint red glow. The air rippled and Silver felt her fur starting
to stand on end. The amount of power being prepared was enough to
have the air smell of ozone. Nabiki backed off as the temperature
increased dramatically, and the air around Uriel started to ripple
from the heat. She could see his eyes glowing like embers, and his
hair started to wildly waver around his face, like a flame that
slowly got more and more intense.

"It may be a good idea to take cover now," he said to
them, turning his head slightly. His face was pale and radiant at
the same time, his mouth set in a smile for the first time in days.

Jigokudou Ran grinned as he saw his two companions take cover behind
what was left of the doorway. The demons had been a surprise…
and a workout. A breach of this strength, a Class Five Circle…
he'd have to give Silver more than her usual cut. He wasn't in this
for the money anyway.

And now he was, for the first time in two years, standing before
a CHALLENGE.

He loved it, the feeling of channeling this much power. He dug
in his ki reserves, and pulled out all the stops. At the time he'd
been human, this would have been enough to take out a small mountain.
Now… Now the powers he'd gained merged with the golden energy
of his life-force, casting a sharp scarlet radiance on the surroundings.

Hellfire burned in his veins as it was brought out, and directed
through his body as if it were a lens. Magical energies swirled,
and the glyphs and runes flared with life. Their cold glow was in
contrast with the flaming inferno of Ran's aura, and for an instant
he looked overmatched.

"The thing about finesse…" he said to himself, with
a faint strain to his voice that he found delighting. He'd been
wrong; it had been much longer than two years since he'd had so
much fun. "…is that you can make as big and complex weave
as you wish, and make unraveling it nigh impossible… But if you
have enough juice…!"

His coat flared out behind him as a gust of wind swept through
the chamber, blackening the walls where it passed. The area around
him was already charred to blackness, and flickers of fire danced
along his skin.

The runes flickered, flared brighter than the sun, and went black.
Jigokudou's grin didn't waver, and the steel plating started to
redden, then whiten. The metal flowed around his feet as it melted
from the wall, its heat biting deep into the tiled floor, starting
small fires in its own right.

Inside, nine people, all of various power levels, but also very
experienced, glanced up from where they were standing around the
summoning circle, and stared hard.

"Who in Hel's name…?"

Nabiki wanted to scream as the level of power shown was displayed.
This guy… He was most definitely not human. Nothing human
had that much power. The only being she knew of which existed on
the Earthplane and was rumored to have this much power was Saffron,
and he had been, again as rumors go, stripped of it due to something
he'd done.

"Who in Hel's name…" she heard, peeked out, and her
jaw went slack as she saw the melted door, and the scorched floor
and walls. Uriel's clothes were still immaculate.

Ran looked at them… and started laughing. It was a sound that
chilled everybody there to the bone.

"Perhaps I failed to make myself clear?!" he roared.

"Showoff."

Nabiki blinked and looked at Silver, who was shaking her head.

A bolt of lightning shot from one of the mages, heading for Jigokudou
but somehow curving around him, missing completely. A hail of enchanted
spheres had as much effect as spitballs, dissipating a meter from
his form. And the fire arrows that hit him seemed to be sucked into
his body.

"I am Jigokudou! Guardian of the Abyss! I am the kami of Hellfire!!!
I burn with it, and have done so for decades!!" he grinned
again, seeing their shock. "And now it's you who shall
BURN!!!"

Flames erupted from him, and the room was soon engulfed by an inferno
that turned flesh and bone to ash.

As it died down, Nabiki could see Jigokudou standing in the middle
of a chamber the walls of which were covered in perfectly smooth
and reflective glass. Air shimmered as the intense heat radiated
from ground zero.

And a deep voice rumbled as a hulking mass of red scale, leather,
and claws hauled itself through the Circle which was, somehow, still
inscribed in the now glass floor.

"Crap," they heard Ran say, very quietly. This was not
good. No, this was very, very bad.

"LITTLE MAN. TO THINK THAT YOU WANT TO TOY WITH POWER
SO BEYOND YOU," the thing said. It was huge, reaching
twelve feet easily, with a wingspan of thrice that. It had four
arms, each clawed, and three eyes. Its maw was filled with milky-white
teeth, each the size of a knife blade.

'Ooookay, so it was a Class Nine,' Jigokudou
thought.

"Hmm, a Lord? I haven't had to deal with one of you before,"
he said calmly. "This may be interesting."

"OVERCONFIDENT, AREN'T WE? BUT THEN AGAIN, THAT HAS
ALWAYS BEEN A FAULT OF YOURS, HASN'T IT JIGOKUDOU RAN… OR SHOULD
I SAY SAOTOME RANMA?" the thing said with bemusement.
And all color seemed to drain from Nabiki's already pale face as
she realized why she had found 'Uriel' so familiar.

"Nice try," the man smirked. "But it didn't work,
did it? Name magic is… Shall we say, ineffective against
someone who doesn't have a true name, isn't it? And Hellfire
purged mine a long time ago."

"HELLFIRE INDEED. STILL…" Without
warning, a beam of black power shot towards the man, who managed
to duck in the nick of time. The dark energy passed through the
walls as if they weren't there at all, leaving holes the size of
someone's torso in them.

The demon wasn't one to give up the advantage, and threw itself
forward, throwing bolts of darkness at his target.

His charge was met by a hail of spellslugs, which did little but
nick him slightly.

"MORTAL WEAPONS. YOU SHOULD KNOW BETTER!"
The thing sneered as it launched a fireball of negative energy at
its target. Ran called up the Hellfire and threw it straight through
the incoming projectile. Both dissipated.

"Then how's about my little playthings?" the kami of
Hellfire said, throwing up his hands. A ring of flames shot up around
the demon's legs, scorching the floor and causing the creature to
rear back for a moment.

It found itself slammed through the wall and into the air, with
its opponent hanging onto its back. Ji focused, and flared his aura.
Flesh burned underneath him with an acrid smell, and the demon roared
in pain this time.

The demon reached behind itself, grasping Ran with its clawed appendages,
and threw him off. The man hit a wall with enough force to be carried
through it. The demon was little if not experienced, though. It
grunted in its guttural mother tongue, and a cloud of black-and-green
vapor winding around its way around the Abyssal's legs. It slithered
into the hole, and a ghostly shriek erupted as the gaseous darkness
was met by a ball of flames.

It wasn't that Jigokudou was flying, no. He was simply riding the
wave and spearheading the incredible blast of fire and heat that
erupted from the hole. Nabiki and Silver were both very glad that
they'd taken cover, especially after seeing some of the walls he'd
passed by blacken and slowly crumble.

He hit the Lord with his shoulder, staggering it and knocking it
back a few feet. Then he thrust a hand into its chest, the appendage
ghastly white in a way the suggested extreme heat. Not that
it seemed to do all that terribly much, since the demon shrugged
off the impact, even if it was charred slightly by the blaze. Ran
had enough time and reflexes to dodge as the being responded in
kind. Fighting a larger enemy was always better a thing to do at
close range, since the body's bulk would get in the way of some
retaliation attempts. He frowned briefly, Hellfire flashing along
his body and cumulating on his fingertips, and ducked under a lightning
fast swipe of a clawed arm. He was bent nearly parallel to the ground,
keeping balance in that odd way that seemed to defy gravity and
last for an 'eternal moment', before snapping back into the vertical
with his own arms moving in a complicated pattern that was clearly
designed as a defensive move. Executing it with hands wreathed in
flame that had the rough temperature of superheated plasma and were
reeking 'power from beyond' changed that aspect a little, as suddenly
the demon's outstretched arm, its side, and a portion of its chest
were covered by bleeding, blistering gashes. These flames, despite
the fact that they were hotter than most anything in existence,
did not cauterize when it was not required of them.

Roaring in pain and more than a little anger, the demon decided
that this little one was more of a challenge than previously expected.
Maybe more than it could take… and to lose would be almost a death
sentence. Death in battle would be preferable to it. Therefore…

A string of guttural grunts in the Abyssal tongue, and the Demon
Lord let loose with something that was dreaded even in Hell itself.
It wasn't merely an attack… A black globe of non-light and non-sound
was little to laugh at, and then there was the fact that reality
was warping around it so heavily.

The demon recalled why that particular spell had been banned as
the globe proceeded to swallow him whole. Even with his speed…
Ran couldn't dodge it in time.

It was similar to a spell called 'Banish', in a way, since it capitalized
on the target's own energies to achieve an effect of returning it
to its home Plane, or killing it. There was little hope that one
could defend against a sufficiently high level… Unless… Well,
paradoxes sucked, since the soul in question here held a conflicting
set of instructions of a sort. One said that it was designated Uriel
— Earth Elemental Angel and the Fire of God, though not aware
at the moment. That would have sent it to Heaven… Asgard… Whatever.
Another said that it was, in fact, an Infernal Angel and the Guard
of the Abyss, as well as a kami of Hellfire. That would have
returned it to the, by now familiar, depths of Hell. Yet another
would have had the soul sent either to Heaven by a slim margin,
or to Purgatory for a year or so before that.

Conflicting directives, no?

As it was, the being would have been simply erased from space-time…
had it not been a wee bit on the powerful side.

He felt his body being torn, the forces playing so casual a game
around him being too much for the frail shell to handle. The fire
that had turned him from Saotome Ranma to Jigokudou Ran was still
there though, burning with its life bringing flame in the darkest
pit of his despair.

Sorcerous energies erupted from the void, intent on crushing him,
erasing the mortal who had become the Infernal Angel, watcher over
the Hells, and kami of Hellfire from existence. Their power, combining
the demon summons of all he ever destroyed, weaving through the
very fabric of space and time as only magic could, streaked along
the featureless emptiness.

A human would have died, and so would a mage, or even a demon.

He was neither. The fires of Hell burned within him, granting him
power and life. The first fires were taken in the battle against
the Immortal Phoenix in China, and had been the only reason why
the treachery that had been meant to end his life before had been
a fiasco. With little more than that and the power of determination
had he managed to survive in the flaming pits of the Abyss and take
their fires as his own.

This wasn't manna, nor was it ki. It was a force that transcended
time.

As Jigokudou's body burst into flame and turned to ash, something
shifted in the very matter of the continuum. His soul screamed
as it burned hotter than the sun itself, turning the building to
slag regardless of all the people around and in it.

Hellfire hadn't had a master for too long, and it wouldn't give
up on this one as easily, even if it meant rewriting history itself.

And in an alley a few blocks away a red-black Ford Mustang suddenly
shifted into the form of a huge flaming cat, and sunk through the
shadows.

And the world went………

………

………

……… Nabiki's eyes shot open as she went from lying down to
sitting ramrod straight on her bed, face beaded with sweat. The
intense feeling of pain was something surreal in the back of her
mind… but the horror that impending demise brought hung heavily
in the air. Her eves scanned the room with a feverish gleam to them…
and her face slackened as she noted where she was.

Her room in her father's house. She remembered… but it was blurry,
like a fevered dream. She remembered getting back from school and
spending a bit of time over the finances for the dojo, then going
down to watch TV. She remembered the latest manga she'd been reading
yesterday night… there it was on the nightstand.

Why was she getting so excited about a silly dream anyway? She
could hardly remember any of it. And anyway, she was thirsty. Sighing
she stood up and flicked on the lights.

"Damn," she muttered. "Power's out."

Still, she went over to the door to her room and out into the hallway,
then down the stairs. It was peaceful, her sisters and father sleeping,
but the morning would bring with it the usual hectic of trying to
come up with money enough to keep the dojo in the black.

She trudged over to the fridge and retrieved a bottle of milk.
Taking a quick gulp she set it back inside, and turned to leave.

She took no notice of the fact that the fridge hadn't been powered
at the time, and even less of the fact that the milk had been cold,
as if freshly chilled. The two damp footmarks that were on the floor
in front of the fridge, where she had stood, would have faded by
morning. Nabiki lay back in bed, a slight frown on her face.

Life, she sighed to herself, was so boring at times.

END, NO NEED FOR HEAVEN

Author's notes: You hate me for leaving it like that, don't you?

Why did I write this? I wonder as I sit at my notebook's
keyboard and frown. Well, for one thing, this was to get out of
a rut I'd been in since early 2002 when I released Everdark 3. Frankly,
I'm not so much ashamed of it as I am embarrassed. Not about the
SI part, no, but about the poor quality of it all. Oh well, you
live and learn. One thing is that you should never force a story.
Take this one for example.

Main intention had been a revenge fic on Pig-boy and an excuse
for Ranma to use his line of "… prepare to die!" Didn't
work out quite that way, and I'm in no mood to write the brutal
demise of Hibiki right now anyway. Let's just say that he'd gotten
to finally make true his claim about seeing Hell because of Ranma.
Oh well.

Anyhow, the intended gorefest isn't entirely here. Instead of something
vaguely longish, we have a short fic that scratches on the surface
of an idea somewhere within me, and may evolve with time. I didn't
force the story, and I put the overpowered Ran there for a reason…
It's cool writing him, for one thing.

But again, the fic had, from the first paragraph, turned around
into something different. Alternate universes are fun, and one with
Nabiki as an esper (though still relatively new at it) and a Shadowrun-esque
setting… Been done, I have no doubt, but what the hell.

I don't expect this to be award winning, nor do I think of it as
particularly ambitious, but writing it was a bit of fun and gave
me some confidence in my skills back.

And to you all; thank you for reading. If you enjoyed it, drop
me a line. If you didn't, criticize in a precise manner if you would.
I need the advice. If you want to simply bug me about more of Road
to Hell, feel free. Email address is griever@wp.pl. Any and all
suggestions concerning the fic are welcome.

And yes, I am well aware that my grammar and sentence structure
are lacking. 'S not like I didn't try. I promise to get better,
if that soothes you any.

— Griever
Berlin
20.12.02

Giving credit where it's due:

Gregg Sharp, for the 'Bet' and assorted series.

Brian Randall, for assorted fics, especially PoE.

Chris "HomerNet" McFarland… my pre-reader for this
little piece.

Larry F, for giving me a place in the Lost Library. Heck, for
the Lost Library in itself, without which we would be one high-quality
fiction archive poorer. Also, for pointing out my punctuation
errors.

My aunt and uncle, thanks to whom I managed to locate the machine
on which I'm typing this.

The fanfic community in general, for eating up all of my spare
time. I don't have nearly enough to keep gaming like I used to,
you magnificent bastards ^^

and to the crew on the 'Couch', for… Well, no idea. I'll think
of something. Been quiet there lately, but what the hey.